Excuse me if I say nothing but nonsense, for my mind is exhausted and dispirited.

It is a stormy evening, and the wind is uttering a continual moaning sound, that makes me feel very melancholy.
At such times--in such moods as these--it is my nature to seek repose in some calm tranquil idea, and I have now summoned up your image to give me rest.

There you sit, upright and still in your black dress, and white scarf, and pale marble-like face--just like reality.

I wish you would speak to me.

If we should be separated--if it should be our lot to live at a great distance, and never to see each other again--in old age, how I should conjure up the memory of my youthful days, and what a melancholy pleasure I should feel in dwelling on the recollection of my early friend!.